Animal Farm Journal: La Volpe the Fox
by Murphete
Summary: Written for a school project. It's a journal entry for each chapter plus one of a character I made up: La Volpe the fox. I'm REALLY proud of it!
1. Entry 1

Manor Farm, Day 1 (Entry #1)

I start my journal today as we await the death of Old Major.

Just an hour ago, the old pig had us gathered around for an apparently important meeting. We all had wondered what it was about. What was so important about this dream of his he had evidentally had only the previous night? Every animal on the farm, even the crows and the mice, were there, everyone getting settled, awaiting for the meeting to start. I grew apprihensive at the slowness of the entire thing. It took an agonizingly long amount of time (to me, at least), but finally, after I thought I'd go insane with the wait, Old Major speaks. He calls us his Commrads .

He kicks it off by talking about how his death draws near, and I could already feel the coldness of its touch lingering about the room. The pig continues, talking about how he knows of the nature of life. He talks about the labor and cruelties laid on animals by man. He talks of rebellion.

His speech was so... so compelling. So inspiring. No, that word doesn't belong there, it's a disgrace to the word. He was just... it was hard not to listen and hand onto every word that was said. There was a flow that I still don't understand. The song he and everyone else eventually sung dosen't compare to his charisma. Oh, the song. Beasts of England it was called. I remember specifically closing my eyes as the pig sung it. I felt almost relaxed, but I wasn't. I soon realized the deeper and possibly darker intentions the song had. It was hypnotic. The other animals soon joined in, singing loudly. Mr. Jones shot a gun shot as a warning for all of us to shut up. I watched as all the other animals scattered and quickly lay down to sleep, but I was remained awake. I had already been a well way away from the barn. I did not sing.

Today, I was aware. 


	2. Entry 2

Manor Farm, Day 6 (Entry #2)

I have not had any need to write in the past few days.

Sleep came to me surprisingly easy whenever the feeling heeded. I've been eavesdropping, as usual, on some of the other animals, hearing what they've been talking about. The latest talk has, of course, been on the rebellion. When would it happen? Who would it fall upon? How? Old Major had died a few nights ago, and the gossip was stronger than ever. If you could call it gossip. The other pigs have been talking, as well, and so now the beliefs that almost all of the animals share will be called Animalism.

The crows are talking about where animals go when they die. The crow named Moses leads this conversation. They call it, Sugarcandy Mountain . It sounds ridiculous to me, but who knows? I've been much more philisophical and theoretical lately than I usually am. I wonder if that goes against Animalism?

The young horse, Mollie, is rather inspiring to me in ways I am unsure of. She's of the pampered, air-head kind, so I've never really cared to converse with her, but she's talking of still wanting to eat sugar and wear those funny ribbons in her mane. The pigs are recluctant though. They're probably worried that she'll be a disgrace to Animalism. I already am.

Today, I was a stray. 


	3. Entry 3

Manor Farm, Day 7 (Entry 3)

The rebellion started much, much sooner than anyone had forseen. Within the last 24 hours, Mr. Jones pushed his luck. Though harsh he may be at times, he only recently became a drunk out of depression. Alchohol is all fine and swell when one is deprived with thirst, but it doesn't match up to water. I watched all day, as man after man including Jones himself negletted to feed the farm animals. The animals finally broke into where their food was stored, greatly angering Jones and his men. They whipped and forcibly; but vainly; tried to stop the animals from doing such. It was in that moment, as I watched all of this occur from atop the perimeter fence, that the Animal's Rebellion began.

Our work was cut out for us. We had to take up all of the chores and duties that once was commishioned by the humans. Farming, milking, etc. That old horse, Boxer, constantly pushed himself harder for the pigs. He doesn't even realize how naive he is about the pig's alterior motives. I'm not sure if even the pigs are aware, yet. I still only watch, always keeping my distance but always listening. Or hearing, rather. I watch the literary classes with interest, but not with interest in the subject. I am interested in what this will lead to and of what it has already done. Seven Commandments now linger over our heads, and propaganda makes sure we realize it. I am slowly becoming tired of hearing the word, Comrade . It hardly feels like we are...

The pigs seem to be our leaders now. Everyone seems to think that they are the wisest, but wisdom is something far from it and something I'm not sure any of us deserve. I am not sure what to think, so I stay in the shadows.

Today, I am an audience. 


	4. Entry 4

**Author's Note: I had things crossed off in this and a couple other chapters, but since I can't do that, if it's underlined that means that it's crossed through, as if La Volpe changed his mind about something and crossed through it rather than erasing it.**

* * *

Animal Farm, Day 68 (Entry 4)

I have had need and desire to write, but the chance never found itself.

It is now the start of summer. The pigs take up all of the milk and apples for themselves for reasons I cannot nor have reason to remember. All I know is that it doesn't matter.

Pigeons have been going around the country, telling all who will listen of the Rebellion and teaching them that accursed song, on orders of The Pigs. It's strange though, the song now seems compelling rather than hypnotic. Society for animals is quickly changing. The nearby farms have been deprived of the knowledge of the Rebellion by their farmers, perhaps for the better. The neighboring animals, however, don't entirely believe this, due to rumors of the infamous Animal Farm. The humans grow angry with fear.

Today, I was a lost pup.


	5. Entry 5

Animal Farm, Day 232 (Entry #5)

I had lost my journal.

The Pigs have wolves on their side now, dogs Napoleon raised himself. That says something about the damned pig, I should say. I was nearly chased down by the young pack and ripped to shreds for a reason unknown. It seemed like instinct in the dogs, but it felt darker than that. My journal hadn't be read, had it? By a loyalist to The Pigs? Or perhaps the monarchs themselves? I could never be sure. I must hide both myself and my very few belongings even deeper in the shadows, now. Unless I pronounce loyalty and give up my freedom, I don't feel secure.

There was recently an ambush by the humans on the farm. I watched as Snowball commanded the animals into apparently rehersed or at least planned formations. The fight was brutal, and several sheep were killed. The men were dispatched, though. One stable boy; luckily for him; surviving, even though Boxer sadly thought he had killed him. They named the battle a name I couldn't care to remember (Battle of Cow-Something, I think). We had our first tradition: to shoot Jones's gun on the battle day and on the rebellion day. Though power has been gained in favor of the animals, I watch silently as the climax of the government slowly draws near. Fate would have no problem picking a side.

Today, I was a forgotten book. 


	6. Entry 6

Animal Farm, Day 232 (Entry #5)

I had lost my journal.

The Pigs have wolves on their side now, dogs Napoleon raised himself. That says something about the damned pig, I should say. I was nearly chased down by the young pack and ripped to shreds for a reason unknown. It seemed like instinct in the dogs, but it felt darker than that. My journal hadn't be read, had it? By a loyalist to The Pigs? Or perhaps the monarchs themselves? I could never be sure. I must hide both myself and my very few belongings even deeper in the shadows, now. Unless I pronounce loyalty and give up my freedom, I don't feel secure.

There was recently an ambush by the humans on the farm. I watched as Snowball commanded the animals into apparently rehersed or at least planned formations. The fight was brutal, and several sheep were killed. The men were dispatched, though. One stable boy; luckily for him; surviving, even though Boxer sadly thought he had killed him. They named the battle a name I couldn't care to remember (Battle of Cow-Something, I think). We had our first tradition: to shoot Jones's gun on the battle day and on the rebellion day. Though power has been gained in favor of the animals, I watch silently as the climax of the government slowly draws near. Fate would have no problem picking a side.

Today, I was a forgotten book. 


	7. Entry 7

**Author's Note: I had some things literally crossed off in this as well as in the next chapter. Since I can't do that on here, if it's underlined then that means it was crossed off. **

* * *

Napoleon's Farm, Day 592 (Entry 7)

My journal was stolen.

Napoleon is a coward. He hides in the farmhouse and is always heavily guarded.

Napoleon is a great leader. He deserves the farmhouse. Napoleon is always right.

I will work harder.


	8. Entry 8

**Author's Note: If it's underlined, it was crossed out. In this particular chapter, if it's bolded AND underlined, it was double-crossed out.**

Napoleon's Our leader, Comrade Napoleon's Animal Farm, Day 597 (Entry 8)

I **have been **am **afraid** glad to write.

I write.

Though the Seventh Commandment says, "No animal shall kill another animal without cause", Napoleon our leader, Comrade Napoleon is not never a hypocrite. Traitors are traitors. Traitors deserve to die. Traitors never prosper.

The Rebellion is not over I we shall... so Beasts of England is forbidden. We now sing, "Animal Farm, Animal Farm; Never through me shall thou come to harm!" **I don't feel safe **The song is grand and true. Napoleon Our leader, Comrade Napoleon is always right.

All animals are equal but some are more equal than others is more true than ever, now. **Hypocrites, the more equal are!** I am not more equal than our leader, Comrade Napoleon and his fellowship brotherhood.

Today, I was **the imprisioned** free to be happy.


	9. Entry 9

**Author's Note: If it's underlined it's crossed through.**

* * *

Our leader, Comrade Napoleon's Animal Farm, Day 598 (Entry 9)

I recap what happened today in my diary for my own "pathedic" interest.

Another battle raged on, worse than the Battle of the Cowshed and Humans vs. Animals again. The men had guns and drove Us back. We had to retaliate. Pikington, like the bastard he is, refused to help, saying that it serves Us right. Fredrick's men, meanwhile, planned to knock Our glorious windmill down. As fellow Comrades, We had to have courage, but it was not enough, for the idiotic humans blew apart Our windmill. This inspired Us enough to drive away the humans and win the Battle of the Windmill.

Later, We were given solumn news; Our leader, Comrade Napoleon, was dying. Even later, however, We learned that he was recovering! Oh, grandest joy! However, whether it's in celebration or sorrow, drinking alcohol is still not permitted.

Today, We were victorious and the humans failures.


	10. Entry 10

Animal Farm, Day 734 (Entry #10)

I secretly write this in my own temporary glimpse at freedom.

I am not at peace with The Pigs. They've been watching what I write; making sure it was only good and true things about the higherarchy.

The Pigs have made it legal to drink (at least for themselves) so long as it isn't excessively. Hypocrites. They've been drunk on power since the Rebellion started. This winter had been harsh for everyone, even me. I was not allowed to go scorage for food nor hunt like I would usually. I am forced to go by their rules in their world. I refuse to say his name. They say we are no longer slaves, but we are free. The Pigs are blind and very persuading.

Recently The Pigs have proclaimed us a Republican government. Of course, You-Know-Who was unaminously elected.

Moses the crow returned after unnoticingly having gone off somewhere for the past couple of years. I longed to talk to him, even if he wasn't the best of company. He at least hadn't changed...

The blindly loyal Boxer, of course, worked as hard as he could when his battle wounds healed. This was his death sentence. The Pig Squealer lied about his last wishes and words, and of what happened to him. It may have gone unnoticed among everybody else, but I had experience. I could tell...

During his funeral, I could not hide in the shadows.

Today, I was the intelligencia.

* * *

**Author's Note: There is one last chapter that will be uploaded soon. I typed it on a different comuter and need to find it. Thanks!**


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